One Door Closes
by jayer
Summary: James Kincaid is a shy kid and a child prodigy. His struggles after his parents deaths lead him to a very unexpected place. Post Falling Ash
1. Chapter 1

"Into your hands, O loving and merciful God, we commend unto you your servant and daughter, Sarah Elizabeth Kincaid. We beseech you, O Lord, take her soul into your loving and eternal embrace.

"Heavenly Father, we commend unto you, Robert and James, be with them in the time of their grief and bring to them peace in their sorrow.

"We ask for these blessings in the name of your son, Jesus Christ. Amen."

James stood staring at the coffin which was covered in daisies. His mother loved daises more than any other flower, especially lilac colored ones. He hardly noticed the murmur of people talking or drifting away or even the light rain that was starting to fall.

"Do you want some time alone? Say goodbye."

James shook his head. "No. I already said goodbye."


	2. Chapter 2

Mr Reece paused the movie and flipped the lights back on. "Thoughts, Ladies and Gentlemen?"

"Those movies are lame." Several students snickered.

"Thank you, Tony, for your participation, but I was hoping for something a bit more discussion provoking." Mr Reece glanced around the room. "Anyone? Bueller?"

A girl in the back of the room raised her hand.

"Yes, Shelby."

"It's all wrong, Mr Reece. Computers and stuff don't work like that."

"They don't?"

"No."

"The thing with the bank might work." Another girl jumped in. "If the banks really do just ignore those fractions."

"But whatever Sandra Bullock was doing was not the Web."

"And dude, Keanu Reeves."

"But that was science fiction. That always goes way out there. I mean look at Star Trek. None of that stuff's legit."

"Some of it's kinda legit. I mean communicators are just mobile phones like my dad has in his car."

"But that stuff Jack Black was doing was like freaking magic. 'Rotate it on the vertical', impossible."

"And how about that it was possible one time but when the old man asked him to do it again he was like 'it doesn't work like that.'"

"That one was the worst. How do they not know that stores have more than one camera?"

"That's a very good question." Mr Reece jumped in before things got to utter chaos. "How do they not know how things work? With textbooks and encyclopedia, with teachers and even the Internet. We already saw several discussions ago how you can search the Web for a vast variety of information. And even if you can't find the answer, you can likely find someone who would know and contact them right through your computer with email.

"So does anyone have any thoughts on why movies and even tv shows get technology so completely wrong?"

"Ignorance and Apathy." A voice piped up. Several students turned around to glance at the source.

Most of them ignored James. Many of them even forgot he was even there. He was scrawny, tiny even. He looked like he was about 10 but rumors were he was actually 13. Rumors were also that he was freakishly smart. He'd been going to some nerd private school but left it for whatever reason. He still dressed like he was there. Opinions were divided about whether he liked dressing like a nerd or he couldn't afford to get new clothes. Or a haircut from the long brown mop that usually hid his face. He never spoke in his classes unless the teachers called on him and even then he kept his eyes planted on his desk. Mostly he was just weird.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Mr Reece responded.

"They mess stuff up so bad because they don't really know how it all works and they don't care." James said to his notebook, which he was doodling all over. "They know the audience doesn't really know either so they just write whatever sort of sounds fancy and technical. They could just use Charlie Brown's teacher and it would come out the same."

"Does anyone have a re" The shrill of the end of class bell cut the question. "Saved by the bell. We'll pick this up tomorrow and I want you all to consider the question of whether writers have a social responsibility to get such details correct in their writing or if, being fiction, it's okay to just make up whatever they want. Class dismissed."

The students all scurried out of the classroom, finally free for the day.

"James, a moment." Mr Reece called out. The boy stopped in the door way, turned and shuffled over to the teacher's desk, his gaze glued to the floor.

"Could you look up? Please."

James lifted up his head to meet the older man's eyes but made no effort to brush his hair out of the way.

"I'm pleased that you decided to speak up in class. I hope you'll do that more often."

James shrugged.

"I can't imagine that changing schools in the middle of the term was easy but perhaps you could try a little harder."

James shrugged.

"Perhaps you could start by vocalizing your responses. I'm just looking for four little words: I'll. Try. Mr. Reece."

"I'll try, Mr Reece."

"Good. Mr Simmons has given me the okay to start a computer club next term. Perhaps you'll try it as well."

"Maybe."

"I'll take it. Now you better get going or you'll miss your bus. And don't forget about tonight's homework."

James jogged down the hallway to his locker. Most of the students were already gone, which suited him just fine. He quickly stuffed his books in his bag and made it to the bus just in time. He dropped into an empty seat and stared out the window, ignoring the chatter of his fellow students. They weren't talking to him anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

"James. I'm home." James could hear the steps on the stairs. "I hope your homework is done."

"Most of it." James kept his gaze on the game he was playing.  
"You know the rules."

"I just have a chapter of Fahrenheit 451 to read. I can do that before bed."

"Homework before games means all your homework, but I guess I could let it slide this once."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I mean it, this is a one time deal. Next time, you read the chapter first or your Playstation goes to my office for a month."

"Copy that." James gave his father a mock salute.

Robert chuckled. "I suppose, since we're breaking the rules, I could go ahead and give you this." Robert held out a bag.

James pulled out the box. "The Mission Impossible Game. Cool." James face fell. "But it's too expensive. I don't need it."

"You let me worry about that. You haven't gotten a new game in ages and your birthday's next month. How could I not get it? It's early training for your future career as a spy. Or have you changed your mind? Decided you don't want to be a real life Ethan Hunt."

"I'll never be Ethan Hunt. He's a total badass. I'll end up being Luther."

"Luther was still pretty badass even if he can't kung fu people."

"I guess." James laughed.

"So how about pizza for dinner? It's just a frozen one from the store."

"Pepperoni?"

"Is there any other?"

"No."

"All right then. I'll go pop it in the oven. Don't you dare try that without me."

"Roger Dodger Captain."

"What a comedian."

James reached for the controller to restart his game. He heard the phone ringing. "James, could you grab that?"

James dropped the controller and jogged across the hall to his father's bedroom. "hello?"

"Is this Robert Kincaid?"

"Just a second. Dad, its for you."

James heard the kitchen phone pick up. "I've got it."

James started to hang up the phone when he heard the voice on the other end say the word 'bank'. Curious he lifted the phone up to his ear, careful not to breathe into the microphone.

"Yes, I am aware." He heard his father saying.

"Legally we could start foreclosure proceedings already."

"Please, I just need a little more time."

"Your last six payments were only partial ones, we need the account brought up to date."

"I just need three weeks. I have money on the way that will be more than enough to cover what I'm behind on."

"I'll give you a month. But this is the last exception I can make, Mr Kincaid. If you don't have the account up to date, I'll have no choice but to seize your home."

"I understand. Thank you."

James waited for the click of the other phone before hanging up. He knew things weren't great. After all he had to change schools because they couldn't afford the tuition anymore. But he didn't know they could lose their home. His eye caught the game box on his bed and his stomach flipped. He shouldn't open it, he should make his father take it back. But then he'd get caught for listening in. And his father did say there was money coming. Maybe he got a bonus at work.

"James, come set the table and help me make a salad" Robert called from the kitchen.

"Sure, Dad."

Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.


	4. Chapter 4

"That was awesome."

"So your old man did okay with the birthday Laser Tag?"

"Yeah. I totally kicked your". James caught himself. "— beat you."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Well smarty pants. Lets go check the scoreboard."

James ducked as his father tried to ruffle his hair. He half ran to the display where the players scored were posted. He grinned as he saw the list with his name on top.

"Told ya."

"Two points. Don't think you'll get so lucky next."

"Next time I'll beat you by five."

"Bring it on." James laughed as his father winked at him.

"Can we get ice cream?"

"Before dinner?"

"Or for dinner? It's milk, that's healthy."

"Judges?" Robert said to a nonexistent figure next to them. "Sorry contestant, that argument only scores 2 points which is a lose. You want ice cream, you have to have a burger first."

"Okay."

"Then I thought we might hit the movie theater."

"Really?"

"Sure, you only get a birthday once a year, why not live it up?"

"Can it be a rated R movie?"

"Sure."

"Yeah."

"No."

"You're such a dork." James laughed.

"You'd know." Robert grinned.

James gave his father a punch on the arm and got an attempt at another hair ruffle in return. As he ducked away he realized his father was faking it, going instead to grab him and lift him up off his feet. It was an old game from when he was five but he didn't care. It was his birthday and his father had been in a great mood all week. Whatever was going on before, James was sure it was all fixed. Things were going to be great from now on.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm home."

"In here." James called from the den.

"Hey, sorry I'm so late. Meeting went over."

"uh huh." James laughed at the cartoon.

"Which one is this?" Robert dropped down on the sofa.

"Pinky and The Brain."

"Which one's which?"

"Pinky's the tall one."

"And The Brain is the one that's trying to destroy the world?"

"He's not trying to destroy it. Just take it over."

"Mea culpa."

"What's that?"

"It's Latin, it basically means 'my mistake.'"

"And you call me a show off."

"You have dinner?"

"Uh huh. Peanut Butter sandwich and an apple."

"And your homework?"

"Done."

"Even your English reading?"

"Yep. Did it on the bus."

"Good." Robert glanced at his watch. "It's past your bedtime."

"I'm not tired."

"It's not about you being tired, it's a school night."

"Don't you think I'm old enough not to have a bedtime?"

"Mmm. No. Maybe next year."

"Can I stay up if I watch the news? Mr Mackey says we should be aware of current events."

"Pleading educational value?"

"Yep."

"You can stay up and watch the headlines. For Mr Mackey."  
"Deal." James grabbed the remote and turned off his video tape.

"And in other news, Education Secretary William Kyle hosted a press conference with the President this evening to announce a new initiative to update all the nation's public schools with faster Internet and new computers over the next five years."

"Cool."

"Hush. I want to hear the rest of it."

"After a careful and confidential bidding process with several of the nations top technology firms, Lucien Technologies has been chosen to spearhead the program."

"What? No." Robert gasped.

"Dad, what is it?"

Robert picked up the remote and turned off the tv. "Nothing. Time for bed."

"But the news isn't over. You said I could stay up."

"I changed my mind. Go on."

James saw the stern look on his father's face and decided the best move was to quietly comply. As he climbed the stairs he could hear his father on the phone.

"John, it's Robert. I need to talk to you right away. Call me tomorrow at my office." 


	6. Chapter 6

"Nice work, James. Very clean coding."

"It was easy."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. It's like math. It's logical."

"You like things to be logical?"

"Better than when they're unlogical."

"Illogical."

"Right."

"So if I said we'd do more programming work in the computer club, perhaps even harder programming, could I get you to turn that maybe into a yes?"

"Maybe."

"You're a tough nut to crack, Mr Kincaid." Mr Reese laughed. "But I am going to keep trying."

"Suit yourself." James shrugged as the bell rang. He grabbed his backpack and pushed his way through the crowd to his locker. On the ride home he considered Mr Reese's question. He did like working on computers and yes he did find the programs easy. Maybe it would be cool to try some harder stuff. Maybe kids in a computer club wouldn't ignore him like his classmates did.

James got no goodbyes as he got off the bus and jogged down the street to his house. He was surprised to see his father's car and another in the driveway.

"Dad." James called out as he entered the house.

"James." His father was sitting in the den with two men in dark suits. "Hey Kiddo. How was school?"

"It was okay. Are you guys cops? Is my dad in trouble."

"These men are from the FBI."

"Your father is helping us with a case."

"Like a mob case? Are we going to have to change our names and move to another state?"

"No. Not that kind of case."

"Uh. Okay."

"James, we need to talk privately. So why don't you go upstairs and work on your homework?"

"Finished it at school."

"Good." Robert nodded. "Why don't you go watch a movie in your room?"

"Sure." As he walked up the stairs, James noted that no one seemed to be talking. It made him uneasy. Something was going on and he wanted to know what.

James popped a tape in, turning the volume on his tv up to make sure they could hear it. Then he carefully slipped down the stairs, careful to go only half way so no one could see him.

"What did Morris tell you about this investment?"

"He said it was solid. He said that Rylant was a big up and comer and they had the line on some huge deals that were going to make a lot of money. He said if I got in while the stock was low I would be set. As soon as the deals were announced, the stocks would go through the roof and I could cash out and clear everything with money to spare."

"And he told you that Rylant was a shoo in for the Education contract?"

"No, he didn't say shoo in, just front runner."

"You didn't think that was odd? A Wall Street stock broker having inside details about a government contract bid that wasn't even publicly announced?"

"No. I don't know how these things work. I don't do investments. Or Government contracts."

"So you just trusted Morris, your old college buddy?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Where did you get the money?"

"I had some extra from the mortgage. I thought it would be a good idea to have some emergency money. And some money from a college fund Sarah and I started when James was born. I cashed it out. I was planning to put the money back and more.

"And then there were delays. I was falling behind on things. I told John a couple of weeks ago that I wanted to cash out, that I needed my money. He told me he'd do it but it was the weekend so he couldn't do anything until Monday. Then Monday he called and told him that there was a rumor that the contract was going to be announced in a couple of weeks and it was confirmed that Rylant was getting it. "

"That pretty much matches the other stories."

"Other stories?"

"We've found 58 victims so far. 10 were people he knew personally, mostly college. The rest were friends of friends, neighbors."

"He inflated the Rylant value and sold out just as the announcement was being made. He scored thousands of dollars. Which it seems he used it at the same time to buy hundreds of shares of Lucien. Lucien skyrocketed in value and he sells out to the tune of millions."

"Worse part is he did this all remotely. He set up the sells and the buys on timed programming in the brokerage system. He likely wasn't in New York when any of it happened. Maybe not even in the country."

"So he's going to get away with it?"

"It's very likely yes. If there is anything you can think of that might help up find him, please let us know."

"Of course. Now if there's nothing else, I need to make dinner for my son."

James scrambled up the stairs as he heard the men walking past.

"James. come down and help me make dinner."

James turned off the video tape and went down to the kitchen. His father was staring out the window. "Hey Dad."

"How does Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese sound?"

"Can I make the Grilled Cheese?"

"Sure. Just be careful, you don't want to get burned." 


	7. Chapter 7

James sat up in his bed, his heart pounding. The wind was banging the tree branches against the window.

"Don't be a dork." James muttered to himself. He was too old to be scared of a silly wind storm. He was also thirsty. James shivered as he climbed out of bed. He pulled his robe off the hook on the back of his door and pulled it on as he started down the stairs. He was surprised when his foot hit something laying on the bottom steps. He ran his hand on the wall until he found the switch.

"Dad." James yelped as the light came on and he saw his father was sprawled on the floor. He saw the blood as he knelt down. It was coming from under his father's head.

James ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone from its cradle on the counter.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"It's my dad. He fell down the stairs and he's not moving."

"Is your father awake?"

"No."

"Is he bleeding?"

"Yeah. Hurry please."

"Help is on the way. What's your name?"

"James. James Kincaid."

"And can you confirm your address, James?"

"1723 Willow Lane."

"Good, James. Is there anyone else in the house with you?"

"No. Just me and my dad."

"Just stay calm, James. An ambulance is on the way. My name is Tracy and I'm going to stay on the line until they get there."

"Okay." James nodded. "Help is coming, Dad." He whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

"Back for more books, Mr Kincaid?"

"Yes Ma'am." James set the stack on the counter.

"When you do find time to eat if you spend the lunch period in here?"

"I eat fast."

"Apparently you read fast too."

James walked back to the far corner where the non fiction books began. It was his favorite spot. First because most of the computer books were there. Second because Mrs Jennings couldn't see him from her desk. James quickly grabbed the books he was looking for off the shelf. The school's idea of a computer class was a joke so James was forced to teach himself. He'd almost finished the reading list Mr Reece have given him before he left. His new foster parents only let them use the computer to play approved, age appropriate learning games and they carefully monitored his reading so he had to be sneaky. He also had to be sneaky that Mrs Jennings didn't catch him eating his lunch among her hallowed books. But eating in the cafeteria had quickly proven to be a bad move. The hot lunches were gross and there was a pack of food snatching losers stealing from folks. No thanks.

James ate while he read. He listened carefully for his signal. Few students came into the library during lunch and Mrs Jennings would eventually disappear into her office behind the checkout counter to eat her own lunch. She probably hated the hot lunches also.

James heard the squeak of the office chair and quickly cleaned up. He had no more than ten minutes before Mrs Jennings would come back out of her office and bust him for being on the computers. Another annoying thing about his foster parents. They wouldn't give him permission to use the library computers because they didn't trust the Internet. Although there wasn't much they could access since the school had security software on the computers. It had taken James a week to figure out how to disable the software so he could access whatever he wanted. One eye on the office door, James quickly typed the commands he had memorized. It was just a text interface, no bright graphics or flashy colors. They only did that on the movies. Within minutes James had a list of computers on the school's network. They were labeled by numbers only but James had figured out where most of them were.

He was down to the last two when he heard a squeak. Mrs Jennings finished early. She'd get up any second and catch him. James quickly cleared what he was working on and reset the security software. He could see Mrs Jennings out of the corner of his eye. If she turned her head she'd catch him. James grabbed at his notebook as he jumped out of his chair. He fumbled and the notebook dropped to the floor. Certain Mrs Jennings heard the thud, James dropped to the floor.

"James is that you?"

James quickly shoved the notebook in his backpack and zipped it up.

"Yeah." He jumped up. "Shoelace came undone."

"Yes." Mrs Jennings corrected him. "What are you doing over there?" She said suspiciously. Not many students were banned from the computers so she knew the whole list.

"I was looking for a book for my English report." James bluffed, hoping his face wasn't bright red.

"And where's your book?"

"I couldn't find one that was interesting."

Mrs Jennings shook her head. "You children simply refuse to ask." She strolled towards the shelves. "You have Mr Fletcher don't you?"

"Yeah, yes Ma'am."

"Well he prefers his students read books that won awards. I have all the Newbery books here on a shelf together. I'm sure you can find something."

James scanned the books on the shelf. He'd read almost all of them already, even the ones about girls. But he was going to have to pick something.

The end of lunch bell rang and James grabbed at two titles.

"In the mood for a mystery?" Mrs Jennings asked as she filed the cards and put the date slips in the books.

James looked at the titles he'd grabbed. The Westing Game and "From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs Basil E Frankweiler.

"I guess I am." He grabbed the books and half ran out of the library. He dropped into his seat just as the bell rang.

As he pulled his math book out of his bag, James couldn't help smiling to himself. He'd come so close to getting caught and didn't. He felt like a spy. Like Ethan Hunt. Or maybe he was more like Zero Cool, a hacker.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey Madison." James called out to the cheerleaders walking into the gym for practice.

"Oh hey, Joey." Madison was, by all appearances, the stereotypical high school cheerleader. She had the blonde hair, beach body with tan and a pair of breasts James would definitely like to get to know better. But for all her good looks, she was mentally average and despite being assigned as lab partners for the last two weeks, she still couldn't get his name right. After changing schools five times in almost two years, James was getting used to it.

"It's James."

"Right. So what do you want? I've got practice."

"I just wanted to tell you that I made sure you got a C in Chemistry on your Midterm report. Oh and you got B in History. And those four skipped classes are gone."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"You just changed all that stuff?"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe it." James grinned. "It was actually pretty easy. The school uses eGrade. My last school used it too. The whole thing's computerized. Teachers put our grades in a file and transfer it to the main computer in the office the night before the reports are printed. Our attendance reports are in there also. Mrs West keeps her username and password taped to her monitor. I wrote it down when I was her office and last night I went and changed a few of your older grades to a point or two higher. And erased your skips."

"And then I get caught. Teachers are going to notice that my grade isn't right."

"You won't get caught. I only changed those two classes cause Mr Collier and Mr Briggs don't keep a paper grade book. And they don't keep any of our assignments so they can't compare the computer report to anything. If they ask to see your old papers just say you threw them out a long time ago.

"And the classes you skipped were all substitutes so who's going to remember."

"Are you for real?"

"See for yourself when we get our reports in 5th period."

"Why would you change my grades?"

"Maybe I like seeing you cheer. If your GPA is under 2.5 you'll get cut from the team."

"Well thanks."

"Sure." James took a deep breath. "Maybe we could go see a movie sometime."

"Joey, you're sweet. But I'm a junior and I'm a cheerleader which makes me important around here. I can't be seen hanging out with some nerdy kid. But thanks for fixing my grades."

Madison spun on her heel and jogged into the practice. James watched her leave with dueling fantasies of seeing her do a basket toss and realizing she forgot to put panties on and seeing her fall off the pyramid and break her nose.

"I'm a junior too. Whatever." James sighed to himself. If his life was going to be resemble some kind of tv show, why couldn't it be something cool like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She's bad ass.

"What's this?" James turned to see a pair of the school's jock goons walking up. Another classic Hollywood cliche. "We've got a geek perving on our girls."

"Actually, Trevor, I'm not much into the taste of live chickens." James wished very much that there was a computer program that would make him about six inches taller, 20 pounds heavier and an expert in Kung Fu. Maybe then he'd stop attracting high school bullies like honey attracts bees.

"That supposed to be a joke?" Geordie, Trevor's looming lump of flesh wingman, shoved James against the wall, pinning his shoulders back.

"Yes, but I'm not sure you're smart enough to get it."

"Get this, smart boy. You need to learn where you belong and stay there. Cause it ain't with the cheerleaders."

"You know, Geordie, you should get a mint. Your breath smells like dirt." James wasn't surprised by the knee to his stomach. It was a favorite bully opening move. Next would be either the fling to the ground to kick him a few times, or getting slammed back against the wall. Geordie favored the wall.

"You got a mouth, geek." Trevor reached for James's backpack. "Let's see what else you have."

Geordie kept James pinned to the wall while Trevor dumped out his backpack.

"Nothing. Not even a wallet." Trevor looked up. "Empty your pockets or we'll do it for you."

Geordie stepped back but only enough for James to reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. Trevor snatched it out of his hand and flipped it open.

"What's this?" Trevor pulled an id out of the inside slot. "Seymour Birkhoff. What kind of stupid name is that?"

James debated for a moment if he should tell them the truth or not. It was the one thing he had that might get them off his back. If he played it right, it might even end up profitable.

"It's not a just name, it's a test."

"A test? Of what?"

"Let me pick up my stuff without getting kicked in the face and I'll tell you."

The two older boys stepped back and waited as James picked up his books and notebooks and put them back in his backpack.

"Okay you got your stuff."

"It's to test if the ID is good enough to not get caught."

"It's fake?"

"Do I look 17?"

"Seven maybe." Geordie laughed at his own joke.

James ignored the lame joke. "That name should be a huge red flag that it's fake. If they look and they don't spot any flaws then I know I'm ready."

"Ready?"

James motioned for the boys to lean closer. "To mass produce. But not for just anyone. There's a huge risk in making something like this. It's not worth the risk for people who won't truly appreciate the product. Like the two of you."

"You could make us fake ids?"

"Totally. Happily. And anyone you can promise me won't tell."

Trevor and Geordie grinned at each other. James knew he had them.

"How much?"

"Well, it's not cheap. My materials cost a lot of money. I mean these IDs should fool a cop. Even with a tiny amount of profit, it's still $100. Each."

"$100. That's bull."

"But I suppose." James paused. "I mean given how welcoming the two of you have been, how you keep other guys from messing with me and all that, it would seem ungrateful if I wasn't equally willing to help out a couple of friends. So even though I'll be losing money, for the two of you, I'll do it for $50."

"$50 is still a lot."

"But I am losing money, I'll only do that for real friends."

"Okay you got a deal. But we want good ids. 21."

"If 21 is what you want, it's what I'll make." James plucked the ID out of Trevor's hand. "Meet me tomorrow at the arcade at the West End Mall and I'll tell you what I need from you."

James turned and walked away grinning. $50 was going to make him a decent profit and $100 was going to be great. And no one would raise a fuss cause those two morons were going to back him up. And he should get the rest of the school year bullying free. It was perfect.


	10. Chapter 10

A brisk wind was picking up as James turned the corner. The air smelled like rain.

His new foster home wasn't so bad. His foster mother, Debra, was a decent cook. His foster father, Ian, was hardly at home but generally polite. For the first time in three homes, he got his own bedroom. They had two kids of their own, a nine year old girl Samantha, who was pretty cool, and Bryce. Bryce was basically a jerk. His first night there, James had trouble sleeping so he went downstairs to watch some tv. He stumbled onto some old and kind of lame movie about two geeks that managed to create a hot, super babe with a Barbie doll and their computer. The next morning, Bryce ratted him out at breakfast. James got a half hour lecture about the house rules. Things between them hadn't gotten much better.

School started back up and Bryce disappeared to hang out with his friends, ignoring James. When they crossed paths at school, Bryce called him 'charity boy' which his friends thought was hilarious. They also thought it was hilarious to 'forget' that Bryce was supposed to give James a ride home, leaving him to walk the almost two miles to the house.

James bounded up the stairs just as the rain started to fall. At least Bryce had left the door unlocked since James didn't have his own key. Debra didn't think it was necessary since James would be with Bryce who did have a key. Not so subtle way of saying it wasn't really his home but she wasn't the first. With his track record, she might not be the last. No one really wanted to hang onto a teenager with a smart mouth, a bad habit of getting into fights even if he never started them and a standing monthly therapy appointment because he refused to talk about his father's death. Everyone kept saying that he needed to try harder but people didn't make as much sense as computers. And until the past summer he was too short and scrawny for sports even if he had any desire to play. His only desire was getting out of the system. But he still had a long way to go on that one.

There was no sound downstairs. James wandered into the kitchen and was surprised to find Debra wasn't there cooking dinner. Then he noticed her family calendar with a bright pink note about Samantha's dance photos. That, James was quick to learn was Debra. Everyone had their color. Debra was red, Samantha pink. Ian was blue and Bryce was green. A bright happy rainbow of family. James was a post it note. One on the day his social worker, Mrs Caldwell, would be stopping by to chat and the other on the day of his therapy session. Easy to move if he was still there at the end of the month, easy to trash if he wasn't. And he would be just as easily forgotten. Story of his life. The invisible boy.

James heard a thud as he climbed the stairs. He reached the top and saw Bryce in his room pawing through a pile of stuff from a box James had put on the closet shelf.

"Hey, what are you doing?" James half leapt into the room, grabbing at Bryce's arm. "Get out of my room."

Bryce shoved him away. "It's not YOUR room, charity boy."

"But it is MY stuff. So get out of it." James grabbed at Bryce again.

"Not until you tell me where it is."

"Where what is?"

"The money."

"The money you've been making selling fake IDs."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar. You sold one to Donovan's cousin at your old school." Bryce smirked. "If you don't tell me where you hid the money and how you make them, I'll tell my parents and your social worker will come get you. My dad will never allow a criminal to stay."

"Tell them, you don't have any proof. You really think Donovan or his cousin is going to say anything. They'll get themselves in trouble. It'll be your word against mine."

"But you're the one thats the troublemaker."

"So tell them and lets see what happens." James glared at the other boy. Bryce glared back for a moment before backing away. James picked up the over turned box and startsd putting his things back inside.

"What's this?" Bryce picked up a disc that had fallen under the desk. "Mission Impossible. This thing is an antique."

James felt a lump in his throat. "Give it back."

Bryce popped the disc out of the case and started twirling it on his finger. "Why do you even have it? You can't play it."

"It's none of your business. Just give it back."

Bryce looked at him for a moment. James could see a smirk forming on his lips. Then before he could stop it he saw Bryce snap the disk in half.

He honestly didn't remember taking a swing. He didn't remember anything really. One minute he was standing there and the next he saw Bryce stumble into the desk. He felt the sting of Bryce hitting him back. He didn't remember anything about the next few minutes until he shoved Bryce hard and the bigger boy stumbled back and slammed into the door frame. James heard an odd cracking sound and a scream as Samantha came up the stairs and saw her brother fall. He felt his stomach churn as he noticed the smear of blood and realized he did that.


	11. Chapter 11

James lay in the dark, waiting. No one had said anything to him. No asking for his side of the story or giving him a lecture. Just silence. To his face. He had heard every word of the not so quiet fight when Ian got home. A fight which answered one question, Ian had never wanted James there. That's why he worked late, why he was merely polite. He had agreed only because it was temporary and he was avoiding James, waiting for the boy to be gone.

Finally it felt like it had been long enough. Everyone should be asleep. James slipped out of his room and down to the den.

They weren't allowed to be on the computer at night. It wasn't a new thing. Almost every house James had lived in had a similar rule. Only this was the first time the adults had been smart enough to figure out how to lock things down. Or so they thought. It had taken James less than a day and a book from the library to find a way around their protection software.

A few quick keystrokes and James was in the computer. It was text only but it worked. James wasn't going to wait for the inevitable breakfast conversation. And fortunately for him, guidance counselors weren't the only ones with sloppy password habits. He just needed to find the right computer.

James flipped open his notebook. Some pages were simple, but effective commands. Others were programming scripts he'd copied from books or written out by hand. They had been mostly random exercises just to see what he could accomplish. Tonight they were his weapons. He felt in control inside computers. They made sense to him. Sometimes he wished he could just jump inside and live in computers like Kevin Flynn or Neo.

It only took four times before James found the system he needed. The stolen username and password worked perfectly. James found his record with ease. Most of it was what he expected, Mrs Caldwell had never been one to hide from him what she was writing in his records or how it might affect his future. If anything she talked about it far far too much for his liking.

James quickly found the entry he was expecting to find. Debra had called, from the timestamp it was while they were still at the hospital. Violent outburst, assault, etc etc. Requesting immediate removal. None of it was a shock, of course they would put their own kid ahead of some foster kid. It was the next entry that caught James off guard. It was mostly typical psychobabble BS about how he was emotionally detached, didn't follow rules, didn't socialize, refused to talk about the trauma of his father's death. But the last part, that was the bit that burned. "Recommend immediate removal from foster home to placement at Stanwick." He'd heard the name before. Not from Mrs Caldwell but from chatter. Stanwick was listed as a group home for troubled kids but really it was more of a juvenile detection center. Kids were sent there because they didn't fit out in the real world. And once in, the only way out was turning 18. There was no pleading to the courts for emancipation, no graduating early. There was no way he was going to let them send him there. Screw that. He had tried playing by their rules. Time to write some of his own.


	12. Chapter 12

"James." Debra yelled up the stairs. "Breakfast is ready."

James jogged down the stairs, his backpack on his shoulder. Bryce and Samantha didn't look at him. He really couldn't blame them.

"Don't dawdle." Debra said, her voice rather cheerful given the circumstances. That was all the clue James needed to know something was up. Something like he wouldn't be coming back after school. Not for long at least. "I'll give you kids a ride to school."

James quickly ate his bacon and eggs. "I forgot my soccer bag." He said as they were leaving. "I'll just be a minute." James yelled as he ran back up the stairs. He grabbed the bag from the corner where it sat next to his suitcases, already packed and waiting for the final decision.

Everyone was quiet as they drove, first to Sam's school and then to the high school. James made the appropriate nods and grunts at Debra's parting words and jogged into the school, not caring where Bryce went to meet up with his friends and regale them with tales of what a mental case freak the charity boy was. He quickly opened his locker and found three envelopes sitting on top of the textbooks he had left at school. He opened them and counted the money before tucking it inside a copy of Shimomura's Takedown he had found at a used bookstore. He dropped the book into his backpack next to his notebooks of computer programs and other bits of research he'd done over the years. His actual schoolbooks and notebooks were packed into his suitcase along with his soccer gear. Debra had been paying so little attention to him that she didn't notice that his duffel bag was overpacked for just a uniform, shoes and some knee pads.

James pulled out another book before closing his locker. As he walked down the hall, he stopped at three different lockers, dropping an small card through the vents into each one. Having delivered the promised goods, James slipped into the library and dropped the borrowed book into the return bin. No one paid any attention as he walked down the hall and out a side door just as the bell for class was ringing.

James kept walking until he reached a public bus stop well away from the school. A short ride and he was at the Greyhound station. He quickly scanned the departures, looking for the first bus to leave,

"One ticket to Boston." James slid a bill across the counter

"ID please."

"Sure." James plucked his ID out of his wallet and handed it to the clerk.

"Thank you Mr Birkhoff." The clerk smiled as she handed him back the ID, ticket and his change. "Platform 12B, sir."

James wandered to the bus, stopping to get a soda at a small newsstand in the station. As he sat in his seat waiting to leave, he glanced at the ID. He felt a bit like Dorothy, realizing that he had had the means to get away for weeks. James Kincaid was a teenage orphan at the mercy of the rules and the system. Seymour Birkhoff, on the other hand, was an adult. Seymour was free. Free to go where he wanted, to be anyone he wanted.

"Excuse me." A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Is this seat taken?"

She was pretty. Tall and slender with curly blonde hair pulled back in a bouncy ponytail. She was in a denim skirt and a MIT sweat shirt.

"Uh, no." He smiled, moving his backpack to under his feet.

"Thanks." The girl smiled back. "I'm Tracy."

"Seymour."

"Seymour?"

He laughsd. "I know. It was my great grandfather's name. Everyone says I should get it changed but it would break my mother's heart. She was really close to him."

"That's sweet."

It was so easy. He could pretty much make up any lie he wanted and the lie would be his life.


End file.
